San Francisco’s The Soft Moon returns with a new record of tension filled new wave noise, their first since 2015’s Deeper and it’s subsequent re-mix release. While built on familiarly harsh tones, Criminal is a much more personal endeavor than the previous albums, full of tracks of mastermind Luis Vasquez working through guilt amassed from a violent childhood spent on the Mojave Desert of California. On its surface, the album is about some of life’s harrowing downward spirals. The same could be said of a hundred contemporary recordings, the success of that concept’s execution is almost exclusively up to its creator. In the technically skilled hands of someone like Vasquez, the weight of “why” doesn’t burden his songs. It makes them art. Musically, The Soft Moon marries an evocative personal shadow to post-punk/noise in ways few bands do.
The album’s opener “Burn” fits its name, sudden and pulsing, a hot industrial song about lost control and a frightening kind of helplessness, one that is almost akin to dependence. The following tracks, “Choke” and “Give Something” take a down tempo turn, brooding, softer giving off an almost liquid texture. Clear throughout Criminal is the singer’s bald-faced struggle, his wrestling with something deep insider; what is more, it feels like he’s losing, badly, especially as “Give Something” seethes restlessly to its dystopian finish. On “The Pain” the tempo picks back up, forging one of the record’s most dramatic constructions, a fury of heart racing keys and pulsing beats. As the record crackles to a finish on a triptych of songs (“Young” “Born Into This” and the title track) one is left with no other recourse than to believe Vasquez, his performance, the way he feels every instrumental shock mimics the experience of being abandoned.
One of my few criticisms of the songs on Criminal (and of The Soft Moon in general) is Vasquez’s choice in vocal style. Often he comes off as strident as his subject and I feel as though a lot of the material here would be strengthened by something more mercurial and human, as opposed to the distant, through a sheet of ice feeling on these vocals. Think of curling, almost playful tones Ian Curtis would bring to certain songs, that element of pull-in to contrast with push away. Vasquez sings a lot like Trent Reznor, without the swarthy, come hither sexual undertones. I almost hesitate to comment on the vocal performance though considering how personal this record is reported to be, the key aspect in the delivery of truth is, well, that it’s true.
While I’m cautious of vaulting an album to a higher rating because of a biographical connection, in the case of Criminal the overlap has made for a finer record. The visceral pain, anguish, and ultimate lack of easy redemption on these songs make it a rare experience, one I might call beautiful. Time will tell whether the catharsis ends here, or if Vasquez has an even deeper well of misery to draw on. Until then, enjoy Criminal for the immersive landscape that it was meant to be.
